The path that would take him directly to Duskfire Glacier was before him as the young Rekkr stood on the crossroads of paths. He could go straight to the Glacier, try to put the conversation (or was yelling match a bit more appropriate?) he had with Thistle Cloud behind him and move on. Yet, it wasn't that simple. It would never be that simple because Thistle Cloud had opened Pandora's box and once it was opened it could never be shut. Týrr was left to deal with it's aftermath. The constant headache in his mind as he tried to remember what he knew now to be true — that he was Tezcacoatl...or he had been. He had been left with many more questions than answers and still, days later, was unable to determine if he was Týrr , Tezcacoatl, or neither of them. Thistle Cloud had told him that perhaps he was all three, which, hadn't helped him any. Glacier eyes of crystalline blue studied the rise of the Glacier in the distance desiring to go home but he felt too restless. Too restless to return to the life he was trying to build with all these phantoms of his past clawing at him, like caged demons attempting to tear their way loose. He had hoped to return to Duskfire Glacier free of Ragnar and his messed up family and had ended up with much more than he had bargained for, though he had told Thistle he was emancipating himself whether she accepted it or not. It wasn't hers to accept or decline, as far as he was concerned. She didn't injure him, capture him and fill his mind full of lies. She could make all the excuses for Ragnar that she wanted but Týrr was done.

Eyes went to the path, then, that would take him to Blackfoot Forest, remembering his encounter with the Amazon woman there. Týrr did not know if she would still be there, or not, but he was at a slight disadvantage for attempting to find her because he hadn't even bothered to ask her name. She had seemed fairly adamant on the fact that she was correct on who he was and that she wasn't leaving without him. It was that, that Týrr banked on now as he diverted to a different path and began to head towards Blackfoot Forest, unsure if she would have stayed there, counting on the fact that he would come back to her or, perhaps he'd be lucky enough that she was following him without him knowing. He wanted answers and at the moment it seemed that she was the only one willing to give him any and be straight forward with him.

Týrr drew in a deep breath, pushing on through the chilly, fair morning, a part of him wondering if this was truly a good idea or not; but it wasn't like he could unlearn what he had. No one could help him figure out who he was, that was all on him, if he was truly the Amazon still, or if he was the Viking, or some cross between — an impossible merge between the two worlds. Learning the truth did not open a flood gate of memories, of the things he had forgotten, his amnesia was not miraculously cured by the truth. The very real possibility remained that it might never come back to him, that the long term memory loss was permanent. Could he miss what he no longer remembered? He didn't think so, but if he couldn't remember he could never meet his real mother, he could never go back with the Amazon woman to a world and culture he had been torn from, all ties severed brutishly but severed all the same. He strode further into the depths of the forest, anticipation building within him as he moved further, towards the territories' heart. Steps paused as he inhaled a deeply, the crisp scent of autumn and woodlands, complimented by scent of dampened debris and earth under foot assuaged his black, leathery nostrils. Tipping his head back the Rekkr called for the amazon woman, hoping that she would come, hoping that she would know the call was for her.

There was a part of Týrr that seriously questioned what he was doing with his life in that moment. He didn't know if it was wise to seek out the Amazon, despite that Thistle Cloud had confirmed that she'd been telling him the truth from the beginning. The only one that had been telling him the truth, apparently. Where he would have previously sought guidance he was left on his own to decide what path he took for himself. The seams had been wrenched open by Thistle Cloud and he was left to try to figure out with a torn apart life. Everything he had believed had been a lie and just when Týrr had been sure that he finally knew who he was he had been yanked down from the top of the climb, feeling victorious to scrambling in the dirt with nothing but confusion and fear as his companion. To not remember the truth and be left with nothing but lies was a fearful thing. A horrible thing. He clung tightly to what he knew was real: Duskfire Glacier, Tuwawi, Njal and realized that the Glacier was all that he had that he knew was real. A small comfort to the Nýeldur as he struggled to find realize the truth of his own identity. He might have known that Tezcacoatl was real, had been who he was once upon a time, but the memories were not there and any time that Týrr tried to force himself to remember something — anything, he was met with nothing but a pounding headache.

The Amazon came to him, though she stood back, weary. She addressed him as 'Tezcacoatl' and this time, Týrr did not bother to correct her. He wasn't sure he was her Tezcacoatl anymore but then again, he wasn't really Týrr was he? He was nothing and no one. Nameless, as he had been in his mother's womb. He stared at her stoically, ears cupping forth to pick up her words despite that he could hear her quite fine. The Rekkr drew in a deep breath and let it out in a slow exhale. I do not remember me as your Tezcacoatl, but I know now that all my memories ...they are lies. The Viking's wife told me everything. Or what she knew of it, anyway, Týrr broke his silence, crystalline blue eyes studying her across the distance. I am ...sorry. For not remembering, for being so quick to dismiss her.